


The Mistakes We'll Never Forget

by LadyDorian



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Angst, Dreams, Established Relationship, Family Issues, Force Bond (Star Wars), Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Oral Sex, Scars, emotionally constipated assholes, just a little bit of fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-15
Updated: 2017-03-15
Packaged: 2018-10-05 08:11:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10301942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyDorian/pseuds/LadyDorian
Summary: Hux and Ren have been sleeping together for some time, an arrangement Hux finds he can gladly tolerate, until Ren begins to lose control of his Force powers. When blown lights and shattered glasses of brandy turn out to be the least of his problems, can Hux do what is right to keep himself in one piece?Or, will he do nothing at all?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [twistedsardonic (sfvamp)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sfvamp/gifts).



> For twistedsardonic, who asked for some Kylux romance with a bit of bickering Hux and Leia, as winner of my Fandom Trumps Hate auction. Thank you so much for your contribution! I hope you like the fic.
> 
> Soundtrack here: [8tracks](http://8tracks.com/ladydorian/the-mistakes-we-ll-never-forget)

_"If you cannot say what you think you thought in the light of day, you're as good as naught."_  
_—The Goldberg Sisters, "Night Note"_

 

The instant Hux opens his eyes, he's blinded by the most brilliant flash of white he's ever seen.

He can feel the frost stinging his cheeks, the cold seeping into to his bones. Though he knows it's simply a dream; he's had far too many like this of late to be able to say that with certainty. They only seem to grow more realistic with time, until Hux swears he's left his bed somehow and ended up in a transport shuttle, or dingy cantina.

Or, in this case, outside Starkiller Base.

The din of construction rings out in the distance, the parade ground hidden by the vast expanse of trees stretching on ahead. Hux walks toward the sound, but the snow is too high, spilling into his boots and soaking his trousers and socks. As the dampness spreads through his legs, he clutches the hem of his greatcoat and pulls it closer, tries to shield the rest of his body from the bitter chill.

His skin tingles at the slightest touch of fabric. When he looks down at his hands, he sees the ruddy glow of wind-burnt flesh where there should be only gleaming black. Shivering, he reaches into his pockets.

The right is empty, but as his fingers slip into the left, they close around a solitary glove, the worn leather a blessing against his frozen palm. He yanks it out and slides it on, though it quickly becomes obvious that it's not his—it's too big, too loose around his wrist. But,  _stars_ , is it warm, numbness melting from each tip like water dripping from icicles. He takes in a satisfied breath and lets his hand fall to his side, the cold battering his limbs reduced to a mere afterthought.

When Hux glances down again, the glove is gone, and in its place is another's hand, their fingers woven tightly together.

He jerks his head towards the person standing next to him, and the world suddenly fades back to white.

 

The first thing he sees upon waking is the alert from his datapad on the table beside the bed. He rubs his eyes and stretches his arm out, managing to drag it over by its corner.

The message blinking up at him is almost insulting in its simplicity:  _Sorry._

Hux sighs, swiping at the screen with a lazy fingertip.

_Ren, we need to talk._

A moment passes before the chime dings and the light twinkles brighter.

_Fine. I'll be in touch. Get some rest._

He groans at the last part of the message, and chucks the datapad onto the table. Carefully, he rolls onto his back, both hands flying to his waist when the sheets scrape a little too roughly. With a grimace, he forces his palms flat against the mattress again.

And then, with few options left, he does the only thing he can.

He closes his eyes and pleads for sleep.

***

"—and so, in seventeen percent of recent engagements, cannon accuracy has increased overall to—"

Hux presses fingers to his lips and swallows a yawn, each blink of his eyes blurring the outline of Mitaka's shape more and more, until he stands a solid grey blob silhouetted against the red-lit walls of the conference room. If this were any other day, he'd have no trouble following along with his Lieutenant's report, but the morning's routine had only added to his exhaustion, Mitaka's soothing tone weighing heavily against his lids. His hand moves sluggishly, closing around the cup in front of him. There's an inch or so of caf left at the bottom, and he downs it in one sip, suppressing his regret at not stopping by medbay for some additional stimulants before the meeting.

He wonders idly if they would have done any good, or if they'd have proven to be as useless as the bacta patches he'd found in his refresher cabinet.

As he half-heartedly listens to Mitaka prattle on, his right hand slinks off of the tabletop and creeps across his front, palm coming to rest gingerly against his left hip. Even the barest touch feels like a thousand needles pricking his skin at once, and he pitches forward, trying not to make it look so obvious that he's clenching his jaw, arching his back in pain. He leans into the table and takes a deep breath.

This shouldn't be happening. It didn't make any sense, and yet it  _did_  in a way that  _nothing_  about Kylo Ren had ever made sense, from the second he'd boarded Hux's ship to the night he'd shown up at his door on the verge of a breakdown after failing another of Snoke's "secret" trials. If Hux had known—

He winces, glaring at the empty chair beside him.

If he'd known the cost of snuffing out Ren's tantrums, he never would have bottled up his pride and invited him in that night. He wouldn't have shared a glass of brandy with him, listened to his gripes, or attempted to soothe his nerves by brushing the sweat-damp hair from his forehead, covering the clammy skin beneath with his lips.

And he most certainly wouldn't have taken him to bed and spent hours fucking the pent-up frustration from his body.

He digs his fingers into his throbbing skin, a trick he'd picked up from watching Ren. It works well enough, the anger flaring up in his core, reminding him of what he needs to do—what he'd told himself he should have done months ago.

 _Kriff,_  he'd only ever meant for it to happen once. But Ren kept returning night after night like some stray begging for table scraps, and for the first time in ages Hux had been able to walk through the halls without running into damaged computer terminals and terrified officers, and it had felt  _good._

He clamps his lips together to stifle a laugh.

He'd been a fool to think he could tame Ren's nature with sex. Granted, Hux had always appreciated a little roughness—a sharp bite here and there, a well-deserved spanking. But  _this—_

He tenses as another bolt of pain shoots down his side.

This was hardly a fair trade.

"General, Sir?"

Mitaka's voice cuts through the fog of his thoughts; Hux turns his head almost too quickly, his brain rattling against the walls of his skull. He blinks the discomfort away. "Yes, Lieutenant?"

"Do you have anything to add?" His fingers scratch at the back of the datapad he's holding. "Should I summarize my report again, or—"

"That won't be necessary, Lieutenant." Hux pulls himself up on unsteady legs, crossing to where Mitaka stands. He plucks the datapad from his hands and pretends to glance it over before setting it on the table. "I'll review this in private. For now, let's end the meeting."

At his command, the room begins to empty around them, chairs squealing, boots clicking against the floor. And yet Mitaka makes no move to leave, only stands there with his hands clasped in front of him, staring.

Hux can feel his eye start to twitch. "Is there something else you'd like to say, Lieutenant?"

Mitaka tilts his head, his concerned gaze eating away at Hux's weak smile. "I couldn't help but notice you seemed distracted during the meeting, Sir. Is everything alright?"

"I'm quite well, but thank you for asking," Hux says, though from the way Mitaka's brows knit together, he can tell his excuse hasn't worked. He bites the inside of his cheek and turns his eyes towards the door, certain that at least  _that_  message will be received clearly.

What he doesn't expect is to feel a hand on his shoulder.

Hux flinches at the contact, but stops himself just short of pulling away completely. Mitaka either ignores his reaction or simply fails to take notice, leaning in close, his breath hot on Hux's ear as he whispers, "Sir, I smell bacta on you."

Taking a tentative step backwards, Hux lifts his hand and calmly places it over Mitaka's. "I'm  _fine,_ Mitaka." He smiles wider and gives a reassuring pat, fighting the urge to just pry Mitaka's fingers away and run. "I'll see you on the bridge shortly."

Mitaka draws back, his lips parting as though he intends to refute Hux's claim. But he quickly snaps them shut again, and shakes his head.

"Yes, Sir." His voice carries an air of defeat, his feet thud heavily as he skirts past Hux and heads towards the exit.

Hux stares at the door long after it's closed, forcing each pained breath from his lungs and out through his nostrils. He tries not to picture the hurt he'd seen in Mitaka's eyes, tries simply to fade into the silence around him, to forget the morning, the night before, the weeks and months and—

Groaning, he slumps against the table.

As he reaches back to steady himself, his fingers collide with an object on its surface. He looks down and sees the datapad he'd taken from Mitaka earlier.

And he remembers the message he'd sent in the midst of his restless sleep cycle.

_Right. It's time for that talk._

He sketches out a sentence or two in his head before picking up the datapad, but when the time comes to construct it, his fingers stumble over the letters, typing and deleting until he's left with a basic _"Ren."_ Sighing, he sets it down again and decides to attempt a different method.

 _Ren?_ He thinks it as loudly and clearly as possible. Imagines a calm stream, or a deep blue pool of water, as Ren had taught him.

_Ren, can you hear me?_

A minute or two passes without a response; Hux is about to try again when Ren's voice pierces through, lighting a fire in his right temple.

_I'm here, Hux. What is it?_

Hux tries to shake the booming, burning echo from his head, realizing too late that his mind has gone blank. Though, to be accurate, it feels more like all the thoughts that had been buzzing through him seconds ago had congealed into an enormous mass, indistinguishable and impassable. He reaches in, plucks something from the fringes.  _I couldn't help but notice you were absent from the meeting this morning._

The contempt in Ren's tone never fails to shine through.  _Obviously. I know that._

Hux finds his hands clenching at his sides, his teeth gnashing together in a welcome burst of annoyance.  _Then you'll also know that I demand an explanation as to your whereabouts._

Ren pauses, and for a moment all Hux can hear is the sound of his own heartbeat.  _I was busy meditating._

 _Meditating?_ He scoffs.  _And you thought that was more important than—_

_This isn't about me missing the meeting, is it, Hux?_

All the irritation seems to drain from Hux's body; his fingertips go numb, his tongue sticks to the roof of his mouth.  _Well, if you must know—_

 _You just wanted to make me feel worse for what I did to you, right? Rub some salt in the wound? I said I was sorry._ Kriff _, how many more times do I have to apologize?_

It spills out so fast, Hux swears Ren sounds a touch breathless from simply thinking it, as improbable as that may be. He tries to pretend he hadn't heard the sorrow in his words, the fear and utter desperation. He swallows, feeling something heavy settle in the pit of his stomach.  _Ren, I—_

_I'm sorry, OK? I'll say it a million times if I have to. I'm sorry this ever happened._

Hux's chest tightens.  _What—_

_And I'm sorry for the broken tumbler of brandy, and the bent shelves and melted medals, and for that time all the lights exploded at once, and, and—_

_And the sheets smoldering?_ Is the only dumb thing he can think to say.

_Yes, Hux. I'm sorry for the pfassking sheets smoldering. Is there anything else I should be apologizing for?_

Hux doesn't mention the headaches, the nosebleeds, the constant pressure that had taken up residence behind his eyes. The muscle aches that plague him when he's awake, the odd dreams that haunt his every night. Quickly, he crams them all to the back of his mind; he's still not quite used to this means of communication, unsure of the limitations of Ren's reach.

He doesn't need to know. Though Hux thinks he must sense it somehow, that even when they're not together, Ren is able to pick up on the pain he's put him through.

He's more certain of his assumption each time he hears Ren speak.

 _I'm truly sorry, Hux,_  he says.  _For everything._

There's a thickness to his tone, coating each syllable like a film. It makes Hux wonder if Ren had been crying at some point. Perhaps he'd been drying his eyes at the very moment Hux had contacted him, afraid he'd give himself away.

Hux runs his hand along the tabletop, turning circles over its surface like he would another's skin, the few times he'd taken a stab at comforting. As his anger drains, he convinces himself he's just too tired to be mad, despite the persistent tension that grips his body.

 _I'm—It's fine,_  he says, attempting to add a lightness to his voice that only seems to weigh it down further.  _I'm sure the bacta will do its job in time._

 _Hux, it's—_ He hears Ren groan, pictures him baring his teeth as he often does when frustrated.  _This shouldn't be happening, Hux. I shouldn't be losing control of my powers every time we're together._   _Something is wrong and I'm not sure how to fix it._

Hux had never made much of an effort to understand the mystical Force powers Ren possessed. He'd simply tolerated them, or tried to forget they even existed unless they could be of some use to him.

He wishes it were so easy now.  _Maybe you're ill, is all?_ He says stupidly.

 _For almost three months?_ Ren huffs, hardly enough to qualify as a laugh.  _No, that's not it. It's almost like I can sense an imbalance of sorts. But I don't know where it's coming from._

_An imbalance? Have you brought this up with Leader Snoke?_

There's another pause, longer and slightly more disconcerting.  _Not yet. Master Snoke permits us to continue our relationship because he thinks lust and jealousy will help bring me closer to the Dark Side. If he thought it was causing me to lose control, I'm afraid he might…_ His voice trails off.

Hux wrinkles his nose, the word "relationship" playing over in his head. He glances at Ren's chair, then at his own beside it. His lip trembles.  _Do you—do you think maybe we—_

_Yes._

The abruptness of Ren's answer sends a shiver down his spine, and his entire body seems to clench in opposition. His breath stalls in his throat.  _Well, then..._

 _I've been meditating to root out the cause of the imbalance,_ Ren continues,  _but it could take some time. Until then, I think it's best we try to stay away from each other. For your own safety._

Hux nods slowly, though Ren can't see it. His fingers feel numb again, his arms following suit.  _If that's what's best, then I agree._

_Good. I'm going to get back to meditating now. I'll let you know if I make any progress._

A silence permeates the distance between them, broken when Ren whispers,  _Please take care of yourself, Hux._

And then he's gone, the weight of his thoughts dissipating like a fine mist. For a moment, Hux feels only the soft, calming echo of Ren's voice before the throb of his pulse rushes in to replace it, the dreadful ache creeping back over him. He pulls one of the chairs out and sits, shoving the datapad away in frustration.

Eyes closed, he leans forward and places his head in his hands.

_"Please take care of yourself, Hux."_

A productive talk, indeed.

He bites his lip to keep from shouting.

 

When Hux looks at himself in the refresher mirror that night, he barely recognizes the face of the man staring back.

His cheeks are sallow, his eyes saddled with reddened rims and dark circles, the likes of which he hadn't seen since the stresses of his Academy days. He rubs at his face, leans in to take a closer look, telling himself it must be a trick of the lighting. But no matter which direction he turns, the pallor still clings to his skin. Even his hair seems duller than usual, and Hux runs his fingers through the stiff strands, twisting them in search of their former brilliance.

Relinquishing his pointless endeavor, he lets his hands fall to his sides and takes a step back, glances over his shoulders and chest, the parts of his nude body that fit perfectly within the mirror's rectangular frame. Faint shadows of bruises and hickeys linger in random places—one below his collarbone, two more dotting his ribs, another peeking out from the crease of his armpit. He strokes a still-dark spot above his navel, cock stirring as he tries to recall its particular moment of creation.

His fingers trail lower, grazing the edge of one of the bacta patches taped to his waist.

He inhales, holds it in his burning lungs. And then, carefully, he begins to peel the patches off.  

At the first flash of bright red, Hux jerks his head away, terrified of what he already knows lies beneath. His breath rushes out through clenched teeth, his eyes water at the burn of adhesive being torn from his skin. One by one, they fall at his feet, and he digs his toes into the mess of them, too pained to even attempt to kick them away. Cool air sweeps over his newly-exposed wounds—a tingling kiss that quickly fades to numbness—and Hux relaxes a bit, lets his shoulders sag and his knees bend, his gasps laden with both relief and regret. He blinks several times to clear his vision, then slowly tilts his chin downwards.

There, seared into pearly white flesh, is the start of a matching set of oblong welts—ten perfect impressions of Kylo Ren's fingertips.

Hux moves back against the far wall, twisting as delicately as possible so he can view them all in the mirror, taking note of how they wrap around his body in a jagged arc, like his own personal constellation. He shakes his head as if scolding his own reflection.

If he spent the remainder of his life retracing the events of that night, Hux is convinced he'd still never fully be able to comprehend just how it had happened. He remembers riding Ren, working him over fast and hard in spite of his exhaustion. With each roll of his hips, Ren's eyes had flashed brighter, glittering with this delirious, desperate look. Hands gripped his waist, squeezed tightly as Ren began thrusting up into him, his cock hitting him in all the right spots. He'd felt his orgasm building swiftly, had thrown his head back and moaned Ren's name, encouraged him to move  _faster, harder_ ,  _Yes, right there!_

And then, out of nowhere, Hux had felt a white-hot pain rippling through his abdomen, skewering him from front to back. He'd screamed, but even the worst of his agonies hadn't been enough to keep him from coming, each spurt a molten puddle of shame against his tender flesh. When Ren had finally peeled his hands away, Hux had sworn he could smell something burning.

_"Kriff, Hux...your skin…"_

In the end, it had been the terror in Ren's voice, not the blistering pain, that had made him open his eyes and look down at himself.

And for the second time that night, Hux remembers screaming.

He brushes the thumbprint above his right hip with the pad of his index finger, shuddering at the sting that pricks his skin. Turning his gaze back to the mirror, he watches in disgrace as his eyes glaze over with tears.

 _Kriff,_  he'd never asked for this.

Why had he frozen earlier? Why hadn't he said what he'd meant to—hells, what he'd been practicing for the past three nights? A trial separation? Being with Ren was surely killing him, and yet the thought of spending a little time apart had actually made him  _anxious_.

No, what he needed was to be done with it. A few days wasn't going to matter; a few days hadn't even begun to heal his wounds, regardless of the miracles bacta had promised. And Hux had been too embarrassed, too proud to concoct some ridiculous tale just to get his hands on a few painkillers.

Once more, he looks down at the wreck of his body, nausea building in the pit of his stomach.

What would it matter if he ended things with Ren, if the scars refused to heal? Reminding him of the mistakes he'd made, the things he couldn't bring himself to fix?

Hux dries his eyes with the back of his hand and steps into the shower, braces himself for whatever pain will come next.

  

That night, he has the strangest dream yet.

He's seated at a table at what most would consider a high-class restaurant: The settings are rose-gold, the placemats made of delicate lace, the chairs high-backed and stuffed with a dense padding. Even with his refined taste, Hux feels he has no business being being there, and certainly neither does Ren, sitting across from him with only his tattered cowl covering his shoulders.

"Where's the waiter?" he asks, picking his teeth. "I'm starved."

"Ren! We're in public!" Hux hisses sternly. But when he glances around, he notices that every other table in the place is empty, glasses upturned and plates untouched. Confused, he looks back to Ren.

In the short time that Hux had been distracted, Ren has managed to change into a freshly-pressed officer's uniform, his hair pulled up into a neat ponytail. His cheeks seem a touch pinker, and— _hells_ , is he wearing makeup? "Is this better?" he sneers, crossing his arms over his chest.

Hux opens his mouth to let out one of the multitude of questions swarming his brain, when a familiar, gruff voice asks, "What will it be, son?"

Stunned, Hux turns to his left and nearly bolts out of his chair when he catches sight of his father standing beside him, clad in full Imperial regalia and looking every bit as intimidating as he'd remembered. He taps the datapad in his hand with a thick finger, fixing Hux with that imposing stare that still manages to haunt his memories. "Well, what do you want, then?"

The table rattles suddenly; the glass to his right shatters. Hux flinches, rushing to shield his face. Through the lingering tremors and clattering of utensils, he picks up the low whine of Ren's voice. The growling only seems to build from there, and he hesitates for a moment before allowing his fingers to slip away.

Ren glares at him impatiently, one hand sweeping out in front of him. "Come on, Hux," he huffs. "It's not that complicated."

Hux follows the arc of Ren's gesture, ignoring the glittering shrapnel, the cutlery set askew by his outburst. There, lying atop his plate as if it had always existed, is a datapad that simply reads  _MENU_.

He can hear his father breathing heavily beside him, feels the floor beneath his feet start to vibrate. Fearing another impending explosion, Hux sets his caution aside and quickly flips through the menu, though after a dozen or so screens, he realizes that not a single one offers up anything remotely edible. Rather, he finds what appears to be a crude knock-off of the First Order handbook, regulations interspersed with images of him in various states of undress and in an assortment of compromising positions. Below each picture is a line of rallying text, the two combining to form their own bastardized slice of propaganda.

A rather ordinary image of him addressing rows of troops outside Starkiller contains the caption, " _General Hux says: 'An orderly mind is a productive mind!'"_

Another proudly proclaims,  _"General Hux says: 'Never compromise your integrity!'"_ And above it he sees himself smiling with a tumbler of brandy halfway to his lips, while Ren stands behind him and kisses his neck, his hand hidden beneath an opening in Hux's tunic.

 _"_ _General Hux says: 'Reject chaos and embrace the structure in your life!'"_ accompanies a picture of the two of them in bed, Hux curled in on himself with Ren at his back, arms wrapped around him in a loose embrace.

And the phrase  _"General Hux says: 'Always clean yourself thoroughly before partaking in anilingus!'"_ features... _well..._

Hux can feel himself blush. Was that what his face looked like when Ren—

"Make up your mind, boy," his father grumbles. "We haven't got all day."

Ignoring the man to his left, Hux turns to Ren for answers, but the seat opposite him is strangely empty. He's about to get up to search the room when he feels something brush his leg.

Hux hesitates, then reaches down and gingerly lifts the edge of the tablecloth. After all he'd witnessed thus far, what he finds beneath should barely come as a shock to him.

"Hurry up and decide, Hux," Ren pouts, pushing forward on his knees and running his hands along the inside of Hux's thighs, spreading them with a little gentle pressure. "I'm  _starving_."

He smirks and bats his eyes, fingers moving to undo Hux's fly.

Hux watches breathlessly as Ren frees his cock from his pants and slowly bows his head; he swallows hard as plush lips wrap around his crown, as a hot tongue kisses his slit, the warmth spreading over him better than any dream he's ever had. With a soft moan, he closes his eyes and lets the tablecloth slip from between his fingers.

He wakes to a sticky mess in his briefs, shame clinging to him like a second skin. Yet, as he groans and pulls himself out of bed to change, he swears the burns around his waist have become a twinge more bearable. If only for the moment.


	2. Chapter 2

_"It's always someone's unnatural death that seems to turn you on."  
—Galileo Galilei, "Wednesday"_

 

Roughly a week later, Hux finds himself on the path to Ren's quarters, legs moving in long, determined strides. In the days that had passed since their last communication—dream-Ren notwithstanding—he'd embraced a new sense of purpose, a confidence that echoed with every step. The pain at his trunk had lessened to an irritating buzz, the scars had faded a half-shade lighter. For once, when he'd gone to examine himself in the refresher mirror, the face gazing back had beamed hopefully, in spite of his lingering malaise.

At the same time, the dreams had become more frequent, the days longer, the nights impossibly restless. His head would ache so hard, he'd see tiny supernovas behind his eyelids. His mind had grown so weary that even the most basic tasks seemed insurmountable: The shortest sentence more of a struggle to process, the smallest cup of caf that much harder to lift. He'd catch the senior officers exchanging suspicious glances, hear their whisperings speckle the air behind his back. Hells, he couldn't even stand being around Mitaka anymore, not with the way he'd look at him like he'd been mourning his loss for years. He knew—they  _all_  knew—that Hux just wasn't himself anymore.

Ren had been right—there  _was_  some sort of imbalance occurring. And now Hux was on his way to cut it from his life permanently.

He jabs at the door chime until the sensation returns to his fingertips. "Ren! It is imperative that I speak with you!"

There's a crash from within, and Hux presses harder, faster. " _Ren!_  Answer this door immediately!"

Hux is debating which will break first—the button or his finger—when the door slides open and Ren takes a tentative step into the hallway light. He's barely out for more than a few seconds before he groans and dips back into the darkness of the room. "You're not supposed to be here," he says, rubbing his right eye with the back of his hand. "Whaddyou want?"

Hux watches his lips stumble over the words, damp with spittle and heavy with fatigue. A small cut mars the bottom one, and the thought crosses his mind that he may have put it there himself the last time they were together, though he knows how unlikely that is.

Ren wasn't the one with the healing problem, after all.

His heart thumps faster. "Ren, I wanted to..."

Ren's eyes are bloodshot, his hair hangs in unwashed tangles around his face. In place of his usual mountain of clothing are a loose-fitting black tank and matching tights, both bearing the splotches of what might have been several days' worth of stains. He isn't wearing any underwear, and Hux doesn't need to look very hard to spot the outline of his cock through the sheer fabric—a thick, soft curve lying against his inner thigh.

He hears Ren huff, "So... _that,_  huh?"

"What? No, I—" Hux senses the heat rising to his face and hopes whatever color he has left in him is enough to hide the sickness coating his skin. To be honest, he  _had_ considered the possibility of using sex to ease his restless nights. But not with Ren,  _stars,_  never again, he tells himself. He was through with all that, despite what his dreams may have wanted for him.

He straightens his back, squares his shoulders. "I came here to have a civil conversation. How dare you lump me in with your lewd thoughts."

"Says the man who jumps at the chance to feel my tongue in his ass." Ren fixes him with a smug smile and attempts to lean against the doorframe, though it plays out as more of a graceless sideways flop. His arms slip when he tries to cross them over his chest, and he lets them fall to his sides, dangling limply. "Am I wrong?" he asks, and then slowly drags his tongue over his lips.

Hux's eyes feel like they're about to pop out of his skull. He scans the hall for eavesdroppers before firing back, "You're one to talk, you pompous little whore."

"Mmm...it's so nice to have a  _civil_  conversation with you again, Hux."

Ren laughs mockingly, but the expression that remains is almost too kind for Hux's liking. Hux stares in silence, his scowl evaporating, his hands clenching at the emptiness around him. The press of his own fingers against his palm feels nothing like the embrace of another, and Hux tries to put it out of his mind, tries desperately to look somewhere other than Ren's face.

Again and again he seems to fail.

The longer he looks, the more Ren's eyes appear to soften around the edges. His lips twitch at the corners, weighed down by an unseen burden. When he speaks, his voice is little more than a whisper: "What is it, Hux? I have work to finish."

Hux frowns. His chest starts to ache, as though it had been cut cleanly from one end to the other. Like all the things Ren had ever broken. "Well," he forces a smile through the pain. "Aren't you at least going to invite me in?"

Ren rubs the side of his head against the doorframe and hums softly. "I suppose so." With a weary sweep of his hand, he steps back and beckons Hux inside.

The lights are set low, but not low enough that Hux can't see the carnage that had taken place: Clothes and items strewn everywhere, chairs toppled over, broken wall panels exuding wires. It couldn't have been more than two weeks since he'd last stopped by; had Ren been under that much stress?

"Did you come just to admire my mess?" Ren asks, righting one of the chairs and gesturing for Hux to sit.

Hux refuses the offer with a feeble wave. He clears his throat, vowing to keep things brief. "Actually, I—"

He pauses when Ren bows his head and begins toeing at a large shard of metal near his feet, the sad shriek of it against the floor an elegy to its former glory. Whatever that may have been.

Hux thinks he must be losing his mind.

"I wanted to see how you were doing, is all," he lies, more to himself than to Ren, the sugary lilt he affects unable to temper the bitterness he'd become so accustomed to swallowing. He's positive Ren must sense his dishonesty, because his leg screeches to a halt and his eyes shift upwards, blazing red even through the darkness.

It takes Hux a moment to notice the tears trickling down his cheeks; in a million years, he'd never think to go looking for them.

"I'm tired, Hux," Ren sighs. He wipes them away with the back of his hand, then turns and begins pacing the room, feet deftly moving between the various objects scattered across the floor. "I don't know what else to do. I've been meditating nonstop to find the source of this imbalance. I can't remember the last time I had a decent night's rest—"

Hux cuts him off with a callous laugh. It stops Ren dead in his tracks, and he stares at the ground again, guilty as an inconsiderate child. He rubs the back of his neck anxiously. "Maybe I should be asking you how you're feeling. You don't look like you've been eating or—"

"I'm fine," Hux snaps, but the pained look Ren flashes him drives his annoyance back. "I mean, I'm  _better,"_  he explains, much more calmly. "It doesn't hurt as much now. The burns, I mean."

"Good. I'm glad to hear that."

Hux hesitates, presses his lips together. "But...the scars are still there."

Ren's mouth droops slightly at the news. "Hux, I'm so sorry."

_"_ _Pfassking hells_ would you quit apologizing already? It's not going to make any difference."

"If I could change things, I would," Ren says, gulping back tears. "You know that, Hux."

"But you  _can't._  So just shut up!" Hux can feel his own eyes start to mist up again, and he lashes out at a mound of clothing, kicking it angrily with his foot. _"Kriff,_  this place is a blasted sty!"

Ren goes flying after the rags, kneeling to gather them up into his arms one by one. It strikes Hux as cruelly unfair that Ren should still be able to move so smoothly despite his exhaustion, whereas each step Hux takes makes him feel that much closer to death.

He bites the inside of his cheek until he tastes the coppery tang of blood.

"Look, Ren, I have to tell you—"

"I'm close to fixing this, Hux," he blurts out, arms still sweeping the space around him, as though tidying up will be enough to convince Hux to stay.

It won't.

Hux raises his voice, ignores the hoarse cracking and quivering. "Ren, listen to me! I can't—"

"You need to leave, Hux."

He blinks incredulously. "What?"

Ren sets the pile of clothing down in a corner and moves to the right, bending to gather items that had fallen from a shelf. "Like I said, I'm close to figuring this out. I can  _sense_  it." He places two cylindrical objects on its surface and then reaches down for another. "But to be honest, you're a distraction, Hux."

_"Excuse me?"_

"I can't focus on helping us if you're constantly calling or coming to see me." Glass tinkles softly beneath his fingers; Ren shakes his head at the mess below him and sighs. "Look, I know this is a lot to ask of you, but you need to be patient. I just need a little more time. You understand, right?"

The only thing Hux understands at that moment is the bulbous swell of Ren's ass in those damnable tights, tempting him each time he stoops to pick something up. Before he can stop himself, Hux is moving forward, slinking through the wreckage with carefully placed footsteps.

He'll give him a distraction alright.

As it would appear, Ren is already thoroughly occupied with piecing together the fragments of the object he'd just retrieved. He doesn't even sense Hux approaching until he's right on his heels. Until Hux is so close he can see his reflection in the fractured glass, the glittering ghost of his smile.

Ren spins around; the item slips from his hand and shatters against the floor.

"Hux, what—"

But it's too late.

Hux threads his fingers through Ren's knotted hair and kisses him hard.

There's a twinge of resistance in his muscles, but it melts as quickly as it had arrived, and Ren moans, parting his lips to allow Hux to press inside. His mouth is warm and sweet-tasting, his tongue softer than Hux had remembered. He tugs Ren closer to deepen the kiss, shivers when he feels the tickle of fingertips along his sides, grazing lightly over his tunic. There's a familiar heat that radiates through Ren's palms, a slight tremor that shakes the air between them as his hands hover just above Hux's hips.

And then, they're gone, and Hux feels a sudden, rough press of fabric against his wrists. Ren pries his hands from his face, gasping. "Hux,  _stop_."

_"_ _Shut up."_ He nips at Ren's lips, silences him with a snap of his teeth. Ren shuffles backwards, but Hux is right there on top of him, moving with a lightness he hadn't thought himself capable of anymore. The grip on his wrists tightens, but it only spurs Hux on, gives him the leverage he needs to pull himself closer. He catches sight of the cut on Ren's bottom lip and dives in, sweeping his tongue over it before biting down gently, dragging it outward until Ren whimpers from the stretch. He releases it with a wet pop.

"Hux,  _please_." Ren pleads, ducking away when Hux lunges for him again. He tries to pin Hux's arms to his sides with a weak, tentative hold. "I'll only keep hurting you."

_"I don't care!"_

The shout startles both of them. Ren's mouth falls open, his eyes and lips shine wetly. "Hux—"

"Can't you see I'm already hurting enough as it is?" He laughs in Ren's face—a short, mocking huff. "The least I can do is get a little pleasure out of it."

He pauses to breathe, letting the words sink in.  _Kriff_ , he'd never meant to say any of it, but there are a lot of things he'd said and done over the past few weeks that had managed to escape the narrow funnel of his reasoning. Hux tells himself he has no right to be surprised anymore.

He watches the bob of Ren's throat as he swallows, sees him blink rapidly as if he's going to cry again. The fingers around his wrists clench and then loosen; Ren finds the band of skin between the cuff of his sleeve and his glove, and strokes gently with his thumbs, gazing at Hux with a sad sort of resignation. Trembling, he leans in and softly brushes their lips together.

The tenderness hurts far worse than anything Hux had been through. Even his scars seem to throb in agreement.

With a growl, Hux kisses him harder. He snaps his wrists free and snatches at Ren's hands, guiding them to his waist. He feels Ren squeeze hesitantly, catches him wince when their teeth clack together, and then he's pushing back, swiping at Hux's tongue with a reckless hunger, as if a switch had been flipped inside of him. His hands slide lower to knead Hux's ass, his hips surge forward, and Hux nearly keens at what he finds there.

Ren's cock is rock hard, throbbing with an eagerness Hux had almost forgotten. Hux wastes little time working a hand between them, stroking him roughly through his tights, rubbing his balls with the heel of his palm. Ren groans, and in the depths of his mind, Hux hears the unmistakable echo of his voice:

_Fuck me._

He scrambles to grasp the front of Ren's shirt, fingers fumbling as they twist and tangle in the fabric. Impatiently, he begins to walk Ren backwards, the two of them engaged in a clumsy waltz towards the bedroom. They hit a wall to the left, stumble over a pile of something off to the right, before finally crashing against the chair Ren had placed earlier. Ren reaches behind to steady himself, but his arm gives under their combined weight and he flops down, dragging Hux on top of him.

_Fine,_  Hux thinks.  _This will do just as well._

He spreads his legs to either side of Ren's hips and digs his knees into the cushion, one hand gripping the back of the chair for support. The second he gets his balance, he goes straight for Ren's shirt, tugging it over his head and flinging it to the side, an offering to the filth around them. Ren's hands settle on Hux's thighs, rubbing the outsides lightly. His broad chest is damp with perspiration, his skin prickles in the cool air.

Hux wants nothing more than to dive down and suck those pretty brown nipples between his teeth, but before he has the chance, Ren pushes himself up and reaches for the collar of his tunic. His fingers work the fasteners open quickly, stopping just above the gleaming buckle of his belt. Gripping the fabric on either side, Ren yanks Hux forward and presses his face into the opening, nuzzling a spot on his chest just below his left collarbone. He kisses him through the fabric of his undershirt, then opens his mouth and bites down hard.

An eager cry escapes Hux's lips. He threads his fingers through Ren's hair and pulls him closer, moans louder when his teeth sink in over and over. Ren's thoughts seem to loop around him in a frantic chorus, as disorganized and haphazard as everything else in the room:

_Missed you so much. Want to kiss you. Want to taste you. Want to see those orange pubes again. Want you inside my mouth, my ass. Want you so badly._

Hux shivers. Ren's desperation shoots straight to his cock, coiling its warm tendrils around him. Groaning, he wrenches himself free from Ren's embrace—from the choking grip of his thoughts—and slinks down to the floor, his body limber, mind hyper-focused. Ren runs his tongue over his teeth, fixing him with a blank stare as Hux reaches up and hooks his fingers into the waistband of his tights. When he finally realizes what Hux intends to do, he slides lower in the chair and lifts his hips, allowing Hux to peel the thin material from his legs. With each inch of skin revealed, Ren's breathing becomes more erratic. He's gasping by the time he's naked, practically breathless when Hux gets his his hands on his knees and spreads him wide.

The thought strikes Hux that Ren might not have bathed in some time, but he swallows it along with the length of his cock, taking close to half of him in one over-enthusiastic go. His skin has a sour tang to it; it makes Hux's tongue curl, causes his lips to pucker around his shaft. A drawn out moan escapes him, and he laps at the underside of Ren's cock, wanting to lick the taste of him from every last piece of flesh. Ren's fingers lace through his hair and press gently, his thoughts echoing Hux's exact sentiments:

_Kriff_ ,  _you don't know how much I've missed this._

Hux throws a quick glance in Ren's direction before closing his eyes and bobbing his head faster. He attempts to suck Ren all the way to the base, but he's out of practice, his throat constricting in protest. Ignoring the burn, he tries again and again, driven by the wonderful noises Ren is making, the long groans and soft cries of his name.

"Hux... _Hux_ , don't stop…"

He cups Ren's balls in the palm of his glove, working his thumb over them in close circles, the way he remembers Ren liking it. Ren's hips arch off the seat of the chair, and Hux seizes the opportunity to slide his hand beneath him, slipping a finger into his crack. He feels for the puffed ridge of his hole through the leather and, once he locates it, begins tapping lightly at the center, teasing him with short pulses. Above, he hears Ren's sharp gasp, feels his thighs tense and his fingers clench at the back of his head.

"I'm so close, Hux...I'm—"

A sudden, deafening roar floods Hux's ears. Pain explodes through his head, like a million shards of glass being ground into dust. He reels backwards, feels Ren's spunk dribbling over his lips as he coughs and splutters.

Ren is beside him instantly, his hands cupping his face, smoothing over his shoulders. "Hux!  _Hux!"_

Hux turns his head to look at him, but sees only darkness. Panicking, he grabs at Ren's arms.

"Hux, talk to me!  _Please!"_

The static pitch of Ren's voice grows clearer; Hux blinks frantically, and the room begins to fade back in, black spots bursting along his peripheral vision. He chokes down several deep breaths, tasting the remains of Ren's release each time he swallows.

There's a tiny bit still clinging to his chin, and Hux wipes at it with stunned fingers, his movements slow and choppy. As his eyes flit from the stains on his glove to Ren's guilt-streaked face, he feels his anger rising once more.

Who is he supposed to blame for this?

"I'm fine," he says finally, though the pain radiating through every point in his body screams otherwise.

"You're  _not_ , Hux! You almost collapsed!" Ren's lips quiver. He looks ridiculous sitting there completely naked, and Hux wants to tell him as much. Wants to shout and slap him and let him know just where he can shove his concern.

"I—I need some rest is all." He struggles to his feet, disgusted by yet too weak to shuck off Ren's grip.

Ren holds him steady with an arm around his waist, waits until he's caught his balance before cautiously letting go. "Let me get dressed and I'll help you back to your quarters."

"I said I'm  _fine,_  Ren!" Hux snaps, fumbling at the fasteners of his tunic. He pivots towards the door before Ren has a chance to notice the shame burning his cheeks, or the obvious fact that his cock is still hard in his trousers.

Tension lingers in the air behind him. He hears Ren breathing, pictures him reaching out, the image in his head so clear he can almost feel the tips of his fingers on his back. He clenches his jaw, stands tall at the sound of Ren's voice.

"Hux, I'm—"

And then he leaves before Ren can finish his apology.

As he tosses restlessly in bed that night, Hux wraps his arms around his waist and imagines the hands touching him are not his own but Ren's, those thick, wide fingers stroking each scar reverently.

He feels the hot sting of tears on his skin, and tries in vain to forgive himself.


	3. Chapter 3

_"_ _You're the only mistake that I know I will never forget."  
__—_ _Gareth Emery feat. Wayward Daughter, "Reckless"_

 

Hux wakes—for lack of a better word—to the tickling sensation of grass between his toes.

There's a warmth surrounding him, a comfort far greater than anything his standard-issue blanket could have ever hoped to provide. Light shines brightly even through his eyelids, and he angles his head skywards, rubs his hands over his face as though massaging a balm into his skin.

He can't remember the last time he'd felt sunlight on his body; it almost seems as if opening his eyes will somehow ruin it.

He knows he has to, though. Something must be off here. Something  _always_  is.

Trembling, he lifts a hand to his brow, but it's not enough to shield him from the blinding light that seems to pour in at every angle. Hux drops his gaze to the ground, blinking until the tears dry up, and color starts to fizzle and pop like fireworks through the searing white: First comes the pale pink of his skin, followed by the red of his briefs, and beyond that the soft green of the grass beneath his feet.

For a moment, he's certain the scars at his waist have vanished, and he reaches for them anxiously, breathing a sigh of relief when his fingers brush the raised edge of one. He watches them slowly fade back in, tallies up all ten as he tries to forget the odd comfort he'd felt upon finding them in their proper place.

Instead, he lifts his head and attempts to discern just where in the galaxy his dreams have brought him this time.

He's in a field somewhere, that much he can tell, though his memories can't quite place the exact location. It's certainly much  _drier_  than Arkanis, much more vibrant than any of the small handful of planets he'd been fortunate enough to set foot upon. As he walks, long reeds scratch his calves, and purple wildflowers wink at him in sparse bunches. A tiny cottage dots the horizon off to his right; to his left, a bank of trees rustles calmly, their broad leaves flashing a delicately golden hue.  

And then, at about twenty meters in, Hux sees it—that odd  _something_  he'd been looking for.

The meadow seems to stretch on indefinitely, but the trees that lie before him are an entirety different color, the ground carpeted with red and orange leaves. The transition itself is sharp and instant, as if both summer and autumn had been corralled into two separate spaces and then arranged right next to each other. Even the sky here looks off a shade, its bluish tint dull and slightly overcast.

Hux tilts his head to the side, but no change in position, no amount of squinting or shrugging can make the sight any less of a mystery. Eventually, he gives into his curiosity and, throwing one last glance at the greenery behind him, approaches the anomaly up ahead, counting each footstep carefully.

A gentle breeze stirs, ruffling his hair and sending the grass dancing around him. From within the autumn-sector comes a distant crunching sound, one that Hux recognizes instantly. He freezes, hands curling into fists.

"Who's there? Show yourself!"

Whatever—or  _whoever_ —his dreams are prepared to spring on him this time, Hux vows he'll be ready.

And yet, the short figure that weaves through the trees and out into the open comes wholly as a surprise to him.

"General Hux, of all people."

She steps directly in front of him, stands there with her hands behind her back, head held high as if she'd been proud of herself for almost catching him unawares. "Fancy meeting you here." When she speaks, her voice flows calmly. The mere sound of it makes Hux want to scream.

"General Organa." Hux tries not to make it so obvious that he's gritting his teeth.  _Of course_  she would show up; he'd already been blessed with his father's presence, why not throw Ren's mother in for good measure? He chuckles at the absurdity of it. "Let me guess—are you here to insult the color of my underwear? Or to feed me lewd pictures of myself? Or try to suck my cock when I'm not looking?"

Her eyes widen, brows threatening to engulf her forehead, as if the offer to suck his cock had somehow offended her. "The only thing I'd like to do is have you arrested for crimes against the New Republic," she spits angrily, arms flying outwards in frustration. "But even in my dreams, it seems like that's not going to be an easy task."

A hard knot twists in the pit of Hux's stomach. "What are you talking about? This is  _my_  dream."

Organa tilts her head to the side, unfazed. "Apparently it's both of ours."

The meadow, the trees, the sky all seem to spin around him. "But how…" His head throbs weakly, and a thought worms its way to the surface.

 _"Ren, kriff…"_ He mutters under his breath, covering his lips with his fingers in order to hide this revelation from his companion.

"I assume my son had something to do with this?" she asks, apparently too smart to be deceived by Hux's tactics.

Hux glares at her, but says nothing.

"Right." Sighing, Organa turns on her heels and paces through the sea of fallen leaves. After several passes, she stops and looks back at Hux, as if expecting something from him. "Now what?"

"Now I think I'd like to wake up," Hux says flatly.

"That makes two of us."

With no escape in sight and seemingly nothing better to do, Hux lets his eyes roam over Organa, searching for any signs of Ren in her features, finding maybe a little just around the eyes.

When she notices him staring, she frowns and crosses her arms. "What?"

"You look older than your pictures," he smirks, hoping the insult will take root.

"I look  _pfassking_   _good_  for someone running a rebellion." Organa huffs and stretches her palm out towards him in an overly-dramatic gesture. "You, on the other hand, look like you're begging for death. I can see all your ribs." And under her breath, she adds, "And your pubes."

Hux's eyes shoot downward; his fingers fly to the waistband of his briefs and give a sharp tug, covering the bright orange tuft of hair that had somehow managed to escape. As he lets go of the elastic, his gaze lingers on his scars again, his mind drifting back to how he'd felt when he'd glimpsed them earlier, still unable to make any sense of it.

His reverie is cut short by the taunting sound of Organa's voice: "Oh, quit staring at your crotch, already. I am not having a dick-measuring contest with you."

 _"_ _You_ quit staring," he barks. "This is what I sleep in."

She laughs. "You know, I take back what I said earlier. That color looks horrible on you."

Hux can feel his restraint being pushed to the limit by this woman.  _Kriff,_ she was so much easier to fight when she was half a system away rather than a few meters in front of him. He clenches his jaw, lifts a threatening finger. "You—"

 _You're just like Ren_  is what he'd intended to say. But he keeps that bit of information to himself. Instead, he claps back at her, "Why do you get to be fully clothed? That doesn't seem fair."

Organa shrugs. "I must have fallen asleep while working again. I assume a man of your importance would understand, General."

"Well, of course," Hux sneers. "It's very demanding work, tracking down rebel scum such as yourself. I must admit I, too, have found myself losing quite a bit of sleep as of late."

"Are you sure it's the work that's been keeping you up?" She grins, pointing.

Hux glances down at his chest and is greeted by the cluster of bite marks that Ren had given him earlier, before things had gone sour that evening. A sly smile creeps across his face, an idea blistering in the back of his brain. "Perhaps you should ask your son that," he says, meeting her smug gaze with smoldering confidence. "He likes to bite. Among  _other_  things."

The corners of her mouth tremble and wilt, the wrinkles around her eyes deepen. "You and Ben? Together?" she asks in a hoarse, incredulous whisper.

A spark of triumph jolts through Hux's veins.

"Oh? You hadn't heard?" His words burst through on a head of laughter, near delirious in their excitement. " _Kriff,_  we're practically married!" He spreads his arms wide and spins around in a circle. "Do you see this?" he asks, pointing to the scars at his waist. "This is the ring he gave me! Isn't it beautiful?"

Organa covers her eyes with one hand, then turns quickly and begins walking away.

But Hux isn't finished yet.

"Look at it!" He screams, storming after her. "Don't you dare turn away from me! I'm part of your family now! I'm your new  _son_ —"

His knee cracks against something hard, his chest and forehead pound with the force of some unknown impact. Hux curses under his breath and rubs at the sore spots on his face, wiping a bit of blood from his nose. He stares at the ruddy streak staining the back of his hand, then looks up at Organa. "What the—what is this?"

"It's a barrier of some sort. Obviously." There's an air of certainty to her frigid tone, though her back is still turned to him.

Hux lifts his bloody hand in front of him—palm flat—and pushes forward. After an inch or so, it stops, its progress halted by the unyielding press of empty space. But there is no transparisteel to be found here, no force field equipment of any kind—nothing but nature and sky and air. He feels around for an opening, a scratch, a glare in the surface,  _anything_  to explain this. The longer he searches, the more his head throbs in confusion. "How—"

"I put it there to keep the two of you apart."

Hux tears his palm from the wall, whipping around at the sudden closeness of the voice.

_"Ren!"_

He sways amongst the endless expanse of grass just off to Hux's right and back a bit, a darkened splotch where there had once been only empty green. He's wearing the same tattered mess of clothing he often does, but his helmet is gone, those sad brown eyes shining unhindered. Hux wants to run to him, to embrace him or kiss him or maybe slap him. But when he recalls the company he's currently keeping, he stops halfway and crosses his arms over his chest, opts for shouting angrily. "Ren, what in the hells is going on?"

Ren closes the space between them and lifts a corner of his robe, brings it up to mop the blood dripping from Hux's nose. "I know how impassioned you get about the Order; I thought you might have an altercation."

"An alter—" Hux shoves his hand away. "Ren, why did you even bring us together in the first place?  _How?"_

"I didn't think I could do it either, Hux," he blurts out excitedly. "Not until I tried. It was just a matter of finding the right—"

"Wait—" Something clicks in Hux's over-abused brain, and he feels his rage crest. "Does this mean you know where she is? Where the rebel base is?" He clutches at Ren's shoulders, digs his nails in deep. "Ren, you need to wake me right now so we can—"

"That's not what this is about, Hux."

Hux shakes him harder. "What the  _pfassk_ do you mean that's not what this is about?! Do you not care—"

 _"Hux!"_  Ren's palms are warm against his chest, attempting to ease him back. "Just listen to me, please—"

"I'm on a shuttle, if that helps. I'll be gone long before you have a chance to cover up those pretty britches of yours, General."

Hux glares at Organa, wishing his eyes could somehow shoot beams powerful enough to pierce invisible walls.

"Sorry for interrupting," she says, a thin smile on her lips, "but I just hate seeing two lovers quarrel."

With an angry growl, Hux pushes Ren away and jabs his finger in her direction. "Ren, I demand you remove this barrier so I can kill her."

But Ren doesn't respond. Instead, he skirts quietly past Hux and crosses over to where his mother is standing. He doesn't even acknowledge Hux when he  _"humphs"_  loudly, the scene before him apparently more important.

Hux stands with his hands on his hips and eyes the two suspiciously.

"Ben," he hears her say, watches as she lays a shaky hand against the wall beside his face, "I've missed you so much." She caresses the spot as though she could reach his check beyond, blinking back tears. "All the times I'd dreamed of you, but I never thought I'd actually get to see you again."

Hux squints, wishing Ren had at least done him the courtesy of making the barrier with some sort of reflective surface. The way Ren is standing now, he can only see the very edge of his face, can only make vague assumptions as to what his reaction might be.  _Rage? Regret? Longing?_  Hux shoves each scenario aside, tells himself he doesn't care—he  _shouldn't_  care. Nothing Organa can say will be enough to turn Ren away from him.

A bitter, metallic taste coats his tongue. With a twinge of contempt, he realizes that he's worried his lip to the point of bleeding.

Organa continues stroking the wall with her fingertips. She glances around the meadow and smiles softly. "This place—I remember it from when you were younger. We would hide out here every so often, whenever your father got it in his head to double-cross someone. You liked playing in the field behind the house." That smile disappears when she turns to face Ren again. "Ben, tell me you remember. Tell me that's why you brought us here."

Silence passes over them, broken only by the anxious thump of Hux's heart in his ears. He holds his breath, exhaling in relief when Ren turns around without having said a word to her.

"I've found the source of the imbalance," he tells Hux.

Hux's breathing picks up, his stomach churns. "Well…" he says, licking the blood from his lips before Ren can notice. "That's good, right?" But he doubts the truthfulness behind his question, feels the ambiguity sticking to the back of his throat like everything else he'd hoped to say over the past weeks and months. He tries to swallow it down, rolls his shoulders back and looks beyond Ren towards Organa. "So, what are we—" he gestures to her "—supposed to do about it? There's a reason she's here, isn't there?"

Ren's eyes are expressionless, his voice unnervingly calm. "I'm sure you're aware that there is a tradition amongst some cultures whereby an offspring will introduce their life partner to their parents."

 _Life partner, kriff…_ Hux's stomach feels like it's doing an elaborate acrobatics routine. "What does that have to do with what's been going on?"

"The people in my family have never had that opportunity," Ren continues. "And so, it seems to have caused an imbalance to build up over generations, dating back to the time of my grandfather."

"Are you  _kidding_ —" He nearly chokes on his disbelief, tries to cover it with a nervous laugh. "So this is what, then? A reunion? A family picnic?"

Ren stares at Hux for a moment, frowning. He takes a deep breath, then steps aside, so that Hux and Organa face each other without obstruction.

"Armitage Hux, I'd like you to meet my mother, Leia Organa." He says this very matter-of-factly, as if the two hadn't already known of each other. As if they hadn't spent years trying to destroy everything the other had built.

Hux narrows his eyes at her. "Charmed."

"The pleasure is all mine, General," she replies in a dull monotone.

Something in her gaze makes Hux squirm uncomfortably. He wriggles his toes in the grass and looks over at Ren. "So...that's it, then? Problem solved?"

Ren's forehead creases, his lips form a thin line."I think?"

Hux is about to question his confidence, when he hears Organa speak up behind him.

"Tell me, General, are you taking good care of my son?"

The words float through his brain in a loose, messy arrangement. He isn't sure what she's asking at first, but as the debris starts to collect, he feels his anger pulsing through the center of it, spreading outwards like ripples in a pool of water. Scowling, he takes a step towards her. "Excuse me?"

But Organa doesn't seem perturbed in the least by his menacing display. "It's not a difficult question," she says. "Are you taking care of him? Do you make him happy?"

Hux digs his fingernails into his palms to keep himself from lunging forward and taking a swing at the barrier. "That's none of your business."

"Isn't it, though? You said it yourself, you're part of my family now."

"Ren!"

Grass rustles violently, and then Hux feels the rough scrape of fabric against his back, accompanied by the soothing sound of Ren's voice. "Yes?"

He turns to face him, notices the slight tremor around his eyes, his lips. "Get us out of here," he commands, loud enough that even Organa can hear. "You fixed the imbalance, so there's no need to stay any longer."

Ren drags his hands along Hux's arms, squeezing gently once he reaches his shoulders. "Right. Give me a moment…"

Hux isn't sure what's supposed to happen next, so he closes his eyes in preparation, hoping that when he opens them again, he'll be back in his quarters on the Finalizer, ready to put this night out of his mind.

But then, he hears Organa's shout:

"Don't lie to yourself, Ben. You know this isn't over yet."

The hands on his shoulders are gone, the warm leather seeming to peel itself away. Hux's eyes fly open; he spins around and watches as Ren stalks over to his mother.

"What was that?" Ren asks her, his annoyance paling in comparison to Hux's. "How would you know?"

"Surely you've sensed it," Organa replies, sounding almost amused.  _"Hells,_  even I could tell something was wrong the moment I saw him."

Wherever this conversation is headed, Hux refuses to be left out of it. He stumbles towards them, standing off to Ren's left. "Sensed what?"

Ren blinks his eyes slowly, as though trying to shutter the immense sadness that threatens to burst from within them. He sighs through his nose, then looks away.

Hux doesn't have the patience to deal with one of Ren's moods right now, so he turns and directs his question to Organa, enunciating each word sharply. _"Sensed. What?"_

"The uncertainty surrounding you," she starts. "The confusion, the fear, the mental anguish."

"Well, yes, because of Ren's Force imbalance. But that's been fixed now. So—"

"Are you too dense to realize it?" She cocks her head to the side, eyes darkened slits. "You've been struggling with your own form of imbalance, General. Something that Ben can't fix. Something that isn't his responsibility to fix. That burden falls on you alone. Otherwise, whatever is driving a wedge between the two of you will only continue."

Hux feels like the breath is being squeezed from his lungs. His fingers twitch, and it takes all his concentration to keep his hands at his sides, to keep his eyes and palms away from his waist. "There is nothing wrong with me," he says, unable to stop his voice from trembling. He looks to Ren for the support he so badly needs. "Tell her, Ren."

But Ren merely slings a sideways glance at Hux before lowering his head another inch or so, causing a strand of hair to fall over his face. Instinctively, Hux reaches out to sweep it away, letting his fingers linger on Ren's cheek. Ren's pulse thrums beneath them, a sad and lonely drumbeat.

Longing to make sense of the melody, Hux takes a tentative step in front of him, bringing their faces in close. "Ren?"

Eventually, Ren lifts his head, cheek still warm against his palm. "Forgive me, Hux, I—I  _was_ able to sense it.  _All_ of it. And—" His lips falter, sodden with remorse. "And I could sense the pain I'd caused you as well, so much more than just the burns. I saw it every day. I  _felt_  it. But I did my best to ignore it. I was so certain that righting  _my_  imbalance would fix everything, I didn't even try to comfort you." Ren's eyes flicker wildly; he brushes Hux's hand off, looks away as he speaks. "Hux, I watched you dying and did nothing simply because I was too scared."

And then, he begins to sob quietly.

Hux's chest heaves, his head aches as it tries to sort through the mess of his emotions. "Scared of what?" He asks, genuinely curious.

Slowly, Ren turns his tear-streaked face back to him.

"Of you leaving me."

Something much stronger than guilt claws at Hux's insides. He grits his teeth and straightens his back, clenches around the pain. "That doesn't matter now," he says, apprehension weaving its way between each word. "Let's just go."

"This may be a dumb question, General," the voice behind him interrupts, "but aren't you tired of fighting?"

Hux spins around, thoroughly done with Organa's antics. "What I'm tired of is your  _attitude,_  General."

"You still don't get it, do you?"

Between Ren's sniffling and that smug look on Organa's face, Hux can feel his last bit of reserve beginning to unravel. "Fine, then! Why don't you tell me what I'm supposed to 'get.'"

Her gaze appears to soften. "You need to be honest with yourself. Otherwise Ben will have done all this for nothing."

Hux wishes he had a tall glass of brandy, or maybe just the whole bottle. Anything to calm his nerves and keep him from losing his temper at this woman. "And just what do you propose I do, oh wise General Organa?"

Organa rolls her eyes. "You can start by telling the truth—Do you love my son, or are you just content with stringing him along?"

He scoffs, swallowing a wave of nausea. "I don't have to answer to you."

"Then do it for him."

The wind within her container stirs, and Hux gazes listlessly at the scene beyond, watching the foliage dance and drift to the floor. As her words echo in his head, he thinks of Ren's eyes, red as the falling leaves. Burning holes into his back, turning his resolve to ash.

He shivers, and tells himself to stay strong.

It's for the best.

He turns around. "Ren—"

"Hux, please don't lie to me anymore." Ren pleads, wiping tears from the corners of his eyes. "Do you want to put an end to—to whatever we are?"

That familiar panic sets in again. "What? Ren, no, I—I'm not going to leave you. I—"

Hux forces himself to breathe, keeps his gaze trained on Ren's face even though it hurts. "I couldn't." His lip quivers. "That is to say, I  _tried_ , but…everytime I thought about it—whenever I saw the sorrow in your eyes, I just—"

Ren huffs. "So it was pity?"

"No, not pity." He pauses to think, neurons firing off in all directions. "It was something else. Something—"

"Compassion?" Organa chimes in, an octave too cheerful for his taste. "To think we may have something in common."

"No, that's not it, either." Hux stares at Ren's face, trying to memorize every crease and curve, every mole dotting his skin. His head feels too heavy to hold up, his limbs far too stiff. Still, he manages to turn away, carrying the image of Ren with him as he drags his feet through the grass and along the border that separates the other half of the meadow. Organa's pale grey shadow shuffles around to his right, but he barely offers her a passing glance, focusing instead on the row of trees that lies directly ahead.

Leaves flutter in the breeze, both gold and red, and Hux tries to imagine something more beautiful and tragic than their plight.

He thinks he knows the answer.

"It was selfishness," he says—to Ren, to the trees, the meadow. To anything that will listen to him. "I wanted you, and I wanted myself. And I tried to draw a neat line between the two. Almost like this." Turning, he steps forward and raps his knuckles on the barrier, intrigued by the soft thunk that follows. The surface is cool to the touch, and Hux flattens his palm, lets it lie there calmly as he sifts through his thoughts. "I'd never wanted to feel like any part of me belonged to another."

As he says this, he reaches around with his other hand and strokes the thumbprint above his hip.

"But then you came along and left your mark on me. Quite literally. That line I'd drawn had become blurred and indistinguishable, and I found myself unable to separate the two of us." With a sigh, he rests his forehead against the wall. "At the time, I wasn't certain if I could live with that. All I knew was that whenever we were apart, it felt like a piece of me had been stolen away. Something I desperately needed to reclaim. Something that wasn't just going to come back to me."

His throat tightens up again, and he pictures something like a string wrapped around it, the end of which he'd finally managed to grab hold of after all this time. He feels himself tugging, pulling the truth out as it unspools at his feet.

"I'm just as guilty as you are, Ren. I came to see how much you were hurting because of me, but I couldn't bring myself to let you go." He scratches his nails across the surface of the barrier, along the skin at his waist. "I just wanted to feel whole."

No amount of blinking can beat back the tears welling up inside him, so Hux closes his eyes and lets them fall.

"Maybe I don't care about you. Maybe I only care about myself."

"Hux, don't say that."

The gloved hand that comes to rest between his shoulder blades provides little comfort. Hux thrashes back against it, crying loudly.

 _"Kriff,_  why did you trust me, Ren? That night you first came to me...why did you let me—"

"Maybe we're both horrible for each other," Ren says in a breathy whisper. "But it's what we want."

Hux sniffles. "It's what we deserve, then."

He swallows a lump of phlegm and peels his eyes open. The first thing he sees is Organa standing beneath him, seeming miles away through his tears. She has her hand pressed to the wall like she'd done earlier while speaking to Ren, and if Hux concentrates hard enough, he swears he can feel the warmth of her palm against his, seeping through to the other side.

"I have hope in my heart for the both of you," she tells him. "You may be a blight on this galaxy, but at least you can be good to each other." Her gaze is soft and soothing, a kindness Hux neither wants nor deserves.

Yet, he can't deny that something about it feels good.

He lifts his head and nods, wiping the snot and dried blood from his nose. Part of him already seems lighter, a stretch less weary. He glances down at the thick grass, the creamy stubs of his toes poking through.

And he feels his lips curl into a smile.

"I'd like to wake up now, Ren," he says as he turns towards him. "And I'd like to wake up next to you."

Ren grins and draws his thumb across the corner of Hux's mouth, sliding it upwards to wipe at his tear-streaked cheek. "Agreed." His hands settle lightly on Hux's hips, and he leans in.

For a moment, Hux thinks he might kiss him, and can't help but feel a twinge of excitement bubbling up inside. But Ren simply cranes his neck to look past him.

"Mother, I thank you for your assistance."

"You know I'd do anything to help you, Ben," Hux hears her reply. A soft murmur drifts through the air, and then her voice becomes sharper, more assertive. "But if I'm not going to see you again, the least you can do is lift this barrier and give your mother a hug."

Hux reaches up and wraps his arms around Ren's neck, wriggling his hips and pressing his body closer. He throws a glance over his shoulder at Organa, smirking at the indignant look on her face.

"You know, I never thought Ben would go for a skinny brat like you," she grumbles. "I remember back when he was twelve or thirteen,  _oh_ , the eyes he'd make at scruffy little Poe Dameron."

He looks back again. "Wait, what?"

_"Mother—"_

"Fine," she throws her hands up in defeat. "I know when to shut up. But don't think for one second, General, that I won't still have you arrested just because you're dating my son."

Hux nuzzles the side of Ren's neck and laughs. "I look forward to your attempt, General."

"Oh, one more thing before you go—"

"I thought you were shutting up," Hux growls, resisting the urge to sink his teeth into something.

Behind them, Organa chuckles, her request short and sweet. "How about a kiss for the happy couple?"

For once, Hux finds himself unable to argue.

He pulls back slightly, taking Ren's face in his hands and sealing their lips together. As he closes his eyes, a warmth seems to envelop him, a light burning bright as the sun, as every star he'd ever seen combined into one. Hux feels weightless, almost as if he's drifting off into the sky, and he reaches out and tugs Ren closer, kissing him like the dream will carry on endlessly.

 

He's brought back to reality by the sobering dampness of the sheets clinging to his skin.

The sunlight is gone, the grassy meadow and vibrant trees replaced by rough linens and cold darkness. Hux rubs at his eyes with stiff fingers, both glad to have returned to his bed and a bit saddened that he may never find such color again no matter where he searches. With a soft whimper, he puts the thought out of his mind, gazing up into the familiar palette of his life.

When he lets his hand slip back to the mattress, it slides seamlessly into the welcoming grasp of another. Slowly, he turns his head.

Ren beams back at him, his smile bright even in the shadows. "How are you feeling?"

His throat is sore, his arms shake a bit, but the pain is otherwise negligible. "Awake. Alive...OK, I guess." He allows himself a short laugh. "Though, to be honest, I'd be much better if you promised me I'll never have to come face-to-face with your mother again."

Ren grins. "That makes two of us."

Hux lets out a groan and tries not to acknowledge just how alike the two really are. Instead, he digs his palms into the sheets and attempts to pull himself into a sitting position, though his limbs quake with even the barest shred of effort. He makes it about halfway before Ren swoops in and grabs his shoulders, easing him back against the headboard.

"Take it easy; you're still weak."

The light above them turns on unprompted; Hux squints and shies away. "And whose fault is that?"

He hears a chuckle, and then Ren is guiding him back with light kisses along his forehead. "Ours," he says, his answer muffled in the soft press of skin.

Hux's fingers tangle in the sleeves of Ren's shirt as he leans in, tries to follow the warmth of lips over his nose, his cheek, his chin. He swears he can smell the earthy scent of grass on Ren's hair, lingering even as he pulls away.

 _"Shh_...stay still. Let me take a look at you."

Ren peels the blanket down completely, eyes and hands roaming the length of Hux's body, inspecting every exposed inch. Hot leather and cool air blend together, making Hux shiver and squirm.

"Does anything hurt?" Ren asks.

Hux shakes his head. He vaguely recalls the dried blood under his nose, but when he scratches the spot with his fingers, his nails come away clean; when he licks at his lips, they're dry and tasteless. He looks to Ren for answers, but Ren's attention is focused elsewhere, his gaze drawn to Hux's waist as he gently strokes the skin around one of his scars.

Hux smiles when Ren twists his thumb, trying to line the two up perfectly. "I don't really mind them anymore, you know."

Ren's fingers shudder to a halt. He glances up at Hux shyly, as though he'd been caught where he didn't belong. "They, umm...they look good on you." His lips quiver, tongue darting out to wet the bottom one. "At least you'll never forget me now."

"Ren, I could never forget you," Hux hums, cupping his cheek. "Even without your fingerprints permanently affixed to my body."

There's a wistful shimmer in Ren's eyes, an uncertainty draped in the folds beneath them. He sucks in a sharp breath. "Hux, I—"

 _"Please,_  Ren," he sighs, his hand suddenly too heavy to hold up. "If you're going to apologize again, then—"

"I just wanted to say thank you, Hux."

Ren fixes him with a flimsy smile, its resilience growing stronger as he reaches to lace their fingers together. "Thank you for everything."

Hux presses his lips into a tight line and tips his head back, staring up at the ceiling. With each blink, he sees it all again. With each breath, he feels the pain lifting, the lies dissolving, the blood still pumping through his veins. He thinks of the sunlight and the leaves, of Ren's eyes in the darkness, his palms on his skin, of everything that had been taken and broken and shoved back inside him at awkward angles.

Of everything he—no,  _they—_ could become.

"Get undressed and come to bed, Ren," he breathes, relief soaking through his words. "I'm exhausted."

He looks down at the hand clasped in his and smiles.


End file.
